Legends of the Frost
by SimonStormcloak
Summary: Torgen never expected to be Dragonborn. He never expected to be a legend, told throughout the ages, until the end of time... But that's what happened, and now he has to figure out how to stop the world from being destroyed the the World-Eater.
1. A Rude Awakening

**Hello, Fans! I'm pretty sure I have no fans... But as you may know, I'm having a little trouble coming up with ideas right now. I might go on with this, I might not. If you think I should continue, please leave a suggestion in the review box below! This is a reboot of 'The Last Dragonborn', a story I haven't continued but is on the site. I've decided to start it up again, with a new background, and new plot. Thanks to DraGGonized and skyflower51 for being the awesomest two people I know on this website. Have fun!**

_17th of Last Seed, 4E201_

_On the road to Helgen_

My head hurts, I'm tired, and I have no idea where I am. My body feels broken, there's probably cuts and bruises everywhere on me. I open my eyes slowly. I can barely keep them open...

I wake again. I still feel broken, but now with a bit of nausea. Am I sick? Or just about to die? I open my eyes again, and I can't see much. I blink a few times, and everything clears up. I am in a cart, sitting on something. My head bobs up and down as the horse carries the cart along a rocky path. I look towards the front of the cart, or at least I think it is. There is obviously someone driving it, but who? It seems to be someone in armor and a helmet. The armor has a red tint about it, and I can make out some studded mail around his shoulders. It's no armor I've ever seen before...

"Hey, you." A voice jolted me out of my trance. I look around myself, bewildered. My eyes rest upon a man, most likely a Nord, sitting right in front of me, wearing what seems to be padded fur with a blue sash, and sleeveless chainmail shoulders. He smiles.

"You're finally awake." He says merrily. "No need to be alarmed, friend. We're prisoners, just like you."

Prisoners? And what does he mean by _we?_

"We?" I croak. I need something to drink, my throat hurts. "Is there someone else here?"

"Open your eyes, lad! You're in a cart with Ulfric Stormcloak!"

Ulfric? I've never heard the name. Sounds like a Nord name, considering I _am _a Nord.

But I do open my eyes as wide as I can, trying to see things. I see that right beside the man in blue is another man, wearing a tattered tunic.

"Who's this? Ulfric?" I ask.

"No! This is just some horse thief. He's asleep right now, might not want to wake him up.

"That" He nods towards me. "Is Ulfric!"

"Me?" I ask, confused. "I'm Ulfric?"

The man laughs.

"Of course not, Skeever-brain! Look beside you!"

I look to my right and finally notice that there is, in fact, somebody beside me. He has fiery reddish-brown hair, in a blown back style. His mouth is gagged, but I can still see he has a beard. There are wind braids in his hair, in a very Nordic style. He dons a large, wolfskin coat, covered in dirt, but fit for a count.

"Ulfric, you say?" says I. "And who is he?"

"Have you ever been to Skyrim before, friend?"

Skyrim? Why would he ask me that? We're in Cyrodiil... Right?

"Um, no." I reply. "Why?"

"Oh," he says, apparently puzzled. "I was just figuring, since you're a Nord and all.."

"How can you tell I'm a Nord?" I say.

"How can I _not _tell you're a Nord?" He grins. "Look at you! Fair skin, long hair, and a bit o' muscles on you! If you're not a Nord, then I'm not a Nord!"

"Long hair? My hair is-"

"Not now. But anyway, Ulfric is the leader of us, the Stormcloaks. We are freedom fighters, working hard to make Skyrim a good place-"

"Shut up!" Says the sleeping man in the ragged outfit, now awake.

"You are rebels, and everything was fine before you stupid 'freedom fighters' came and messed up the peace! It's because of you," He rants on. "that I'm on a cart, bound for death with the leader of a REBELLION! So shut up, you _stupid _Stormcloak!"

"Shut up back there!" The driver yells. "Damn prisoners..."

"So..." I say quietly. "We're in Skyrim?"

"Where do you think?" The 'Stormcloak' says. "We're in Morrowind?"

"Um, we're not in Cyrodiil?"

"Oh, I know who you are! You're the one who was trying to cross the border, right?"

"No, I wasn't trying to cross anything..."

"Maybe not, but you're in Skyrim now. In Falkreath hold, if I'm not mistaken."

"What's a hold?" I ask.

"Er... Where you from again?"

"Cyrodiil."

"Really? Okay, eh, the equivalent of a County in Skyrim."

"Oh, okay. You have any idea where this cart is headed?"

"Judging by the trees and mountains, I'd say Falkreath. The city, as in."

I've heard about Falkreath. All I know, though, is that it used to be part of Cyrodiil before it seceded.

"Helgen." A voice says from behind the cart. I look right, past Ulfric, and see somebody on a horse, apparently wearing the same armor as the driver. He had broad shoulders and medium-length brown hair, like mine.

"We're going to Helgen." He says again, and looks away, as if signalling us to keep talking.

"Well," the Stormcloak said. "Helgen it is."

"Who's the person on the horse?" I ask.

"That's Hadvar." He says. He lowers his head. "Used to be my best friend. But that's a story for later. Helgen is a little hamlet, one of the many villages the Empire uses as a base. I used to go there when I was a child, before all this. The inkeeper, Vilod, makes the sweetest mead in Skyrim! When I was a teen, he always added Juniper Berries to make it taste so good. And-" He lowers his voice so that only I can hear. "I used to be sweet on a girl here."

Suddenly a drop of rain lands on my shoulder. I look up to the sky, and see it growing grey, and clouds appearing.

"Oh, great." The thief in the rags says. "It's starting to rain."

Ulfric lets out a muffled grunt beneath his gag.

Rain starts pouring down on us, and Hadvar starts talking.

"You'd better sleep now," he says from behind us. "It's still a long way to Helgen, and there's no point waiting out the storm."

"He's right, you know." The Stormcloak says to me.

"Yeah," I say. "Better to rest, my body aches."

"Well, you guys can sleep," the thief says. "I'm staying wide awake until we arrive."

I lean my head back, relaxing my body. I can't wait to get a nice, deep sleep...

I am woken by a jolt of thunder. My eyes pretty much blow open, and I look around me. The sky is a dark grey, and it is pouring rain. The cart is still moving, and everyone but the driver is asleep, and also the thief. I face the man, and let out a yawn.

"How long have I been out?" I ask.

"I dunno, a while." He says to me. "Feels like a good two, maybe three hours."

"I miss anything?"

"Oh yes! There was a troll attack, and a bandit raid, and some Hagravens too!" He says, most sarcastically. "No. What do you think there was? Just rain, trees and a couple deer. I think we're almost to Helgen, though."

"What do you think will happen when we get there?" I ask.

"Well, considering we're on a carriage with a wanted criminal, I'm assuming they'll execute us."

I wipe some rain from my face.

"I don't think so." I reply. "I mean, they don't even know if we've done anything wrong."

"Well, they probably think we're rebels too, they did find us near a bunch of them."

"I actually don't know what happened. I think I passed out when I was captured."

"I don't remember much either. But I do remember them throwing your apparently dead body onto the cart. You wake up, I wake up, ta-da."

"Who are these guys, anyway? Some sort of mercenary group?"

"Are you stupid? This is the _Imperial Legion! _How have you never seen them before?"

"Well, back in Cyrodiil, in my city, Kvatch, they always wore chainmail with white surcoats bearing the symbol of Kvatch, a wolf. In Skyrim, they kind of look like Skingrad guards, but with different materials and no emblem on the armor."

"Welcome to Skyrim, then. Here, guards wear sashes representing the color of their hold. For example, orange for Whiterun, and red for Solitude. The emblem goes on shields."

"Hmm. Interesting. But anyway, why were you captured, exactly?"

He sighs. "I was on the road to Riften, and I figured I could get there faster by horse. But gold is hard to come by in Skyrim, and it was the dead of night, so I figured that nobody would mind if I borrowed a horse from this lodge I found in the woods. As soon as I mount the horse, it turns out that Ulfric Stormcloak just happens to be driving a cart with a ton of his soldiers, right into an Imperial ambush, where a scout finds me getting on a horse, and pulls me off, and throws me on a cart. What about you?"

"Eh, it's a long story." I say. "But basically I went hunting outside Kvatch, along the gold road. Some bandits come out from behind the trees and grab me. Take me to their camp way up in the Jerall Mountains. They send a ransom to the count, not knowing any of my family. Apparently the ransom was paid, because they dropped me in an autumn forest, and I had no idea where I was. I stay there for a day, and nobody comes to get me. So I start walking south, where I get knocked out and wake up on this cart. And that," I conclude. "Is how I got here."

"Interesting story," he says to me. "My name's Lokir by the way. I would shake your hand, but, as you can see, they're bound."

I look down, and see that indeed there is a knot tied around my hands.

"Hm," I say. "Never noticed that."

I look up, and the sky is ever darker, but the rain does lighten, although just a bit.

"How long have we been talking?" I say to him.

"Oh, half an hour maybe."

"Then why aren't we there yet?"

"I think we are." He says, nodding towards the front of the cart. I look closely, and can barely make out a tower and some smoke in the distance.

I reach forward with my bound hands and give the Stormcloak a little push.

"Wake up," I say gently. "We're almost there."

He opens his eyes.

"Really? How nice."

The rain starts to slowly halt, as the cart grows nearer to its destination.

We're all silent for a few minutes, as the night sky turns black and the only light is the lanterns on the cart. The village starts to come into view, and I can see the gate. It is made of stone, with wood spikes around, possibly to keep wolves out. We grow ever closer to the gate, and finally we are right in front of it. Ulfric is awake by now, and the gate opens, and the cart passes through it. I look around, and see that it is nothing like a village in Cyrodiil. The houses are stone, with straw roofing, unlike the whitewashed wood I have seen elsewhere. Most of the houses have their candles out, but some lights are still going, visible through the windows. We pass by a few houses, and what seems to be an inn. We finally halt at a grouping of stone towers. Another cart full of Stormcloaks has come through the other gate, perhaps from another place. Some soldiers walk out of one tower, and one woman, clearly the captain, is wearing big, Anvil-style imperial steel armor. She approaches the driver of our carriage, who has gotten off the cart and onto the ground.

I can just barely hear them talking.

"Are these the prisoners?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Get them inside and in cells. This isn't the proper time for a trial, much less an execution."

"Yes ma'am. Right away."

He turns to us, and I look away slightly.

"Alright," he says. "Get off the cart and follow me."

We all oblige, and I manage to lift my legs and stand, then hop off the cart with the others.

He leads us into a tower, where we go down the stairs and into a small jail. He then opens two cells. He throws Ulfric and the Stormcloak into one cell, and me and Lokir into the other.

"Get some rest. Your trial is tomorrow. The others will die, but you two have a good chance at living, if you can prove you aren't rebels.

"Well," Lokir says to me. "Looks like we might be getting out of this after all."

"Yeah," I reply, lying down on one of the two bedrolls. "Let's sleep now. Hopefully we can all sort this out tomorrow."

"Hey..." He says to me.

"Yeah?" I answer.

"What's your name?"

"My name? I didn't tell you?"

"Nope."

"Oh. Torgen, then. Torgen of Kvatch."

I closed my eyes, and fell asleep.

**Wow, that was a nice chapter, the longest I've ever written, at words! Obviously I changed a TON of elements, like the time, dialogue, and small change at the end. But definitely what stood out most was character personality. I made Ralof a bit more comical and nice, and I made a few changes to Hadvar, too. But it was Lokir that you might have noticed the most. I didn't like his scaredy-cat appearance in the actual game, so I changed him. A lot. Thanks to skyflower51, DraGGonized, and most importantly, YOU, for reading till the end of the chapter. Please review, and feel free to add this to your favorites.**

**-SimonStormcloak**


	2. Trials and Death

**Yes, yes, sorry for the long disappearance and all that, but It's gonna be like that, I'm afraid. Now you might have noticed that the previous chapter was in present tense; That means words like "I do this" instead of "I _did_ this". But I'm gonna switch back to past tense, because it's just so much easier!**

When I woke up, the sun shone through the grated roof of the tower. I was covered in hay, and the taste in my mouth was a mix of blood and grungy dirt. There was drool on the floor of the cell, and my nose was clogged. I must have been snoring. My hands were still bound, and I could barely open my eyes because the sun was so blinding. I had to roll over onto my back to get away from the bright shine. I lifted my head up and looked at the cell across from me. There was Lokir, sitting in the corner, minding his own business, not even noticing me.

"Lokir," I called from across the room. My throat hurt more than it did yesterday.

"Oh, you're awake. Well, hi." He didn't look tired at all, save for the dirt and blood all over his face.

"When did you wake up?" I asked.

"Oh, about an hour ago." He had gotten less sleep than me. What a peculiar man. Just then, the large door creaked open and an Imperial guard walked in. He was skinny, with pale skin and a mustache.

He turned towards my cage, and pulled out a key and unlocked it.

"Come on out," He said. "Today you have a trial." He turned towards Lokir. "You too. Come on."

He unlocked Lokir's cage and I decided to stand up. My legs hurt a lot, and I could barely keep my eyes open, but I still managed to stumble outside, where the sunlight really did blind me for a second.

There was a crowd, not too large, but large enough for the execution of criminals. Soldiers guarded every point, as if they were hoping for one of us to make a move.

I saw Ralof and Ulfric being led out of the other tower, along with more Stormcloaks. They were led to the block, while our soldier told us to stay behind the crowd. An Imperial Captain, a woman, turned towards the crowd and beckoned for silence.

"Citizens of Helgen," She announced, clearing her throat. "Today you have the honour of witnessing the trial of Ulfric Stormcloak, and his execution!"

The crowd cheered madly, but I saw some with a gloomy look in their eyes. Obviously some were not as enthusiastic about the Imperials as others. Ralof looked directly into my eyes. Not with a look of fear, but with a look of courage and bravery, facing his death like a man. I would never be a true Nord like him. What could I say? I liked herding goats, hunting and drinking wine. Honestly, for me, Mead is disgusting. But I digress...

The captain walked onto a raised stone platform, and she handed a scroll to a balding man in golden Imperial armour.

"That's General Tullius." Lokir whispers to me. The guard gives him a stern look, and turns back to the trial.

General Tullius reads from the scroll.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, come forth!" He shouts. Ulfric takes his place below him.

"By the power invested in me as acting Commander of the Imperial Legion in Skyrim, I find you guilty of High Treason, War Crimes and murder! The same goes to all who call themselves Stormcloaks!"

There was loud applause and cheering, but the General waved his hands, and it died down.

"It also seems there are two other prisoners here today," He pointed at us. Everybody looked at me. Ugh, how I hated crowds. My stomach fluttered, and I felt light headed.

"Would you please step forward!" He shouted, and the crowd split in half for me to pass through. I felt so sick, but I stumbled through all the commoners until I was right below the platform, beside Lokir and in full view of all the citizens of Helgen.

"Who will speak for the both of you?" He asked. I felt sure that Lokir would do the right thing and stand up for me, but instead he nodded his head at me and beckoned towards the platform.

My voice was scratchy.

"I will," I said as loudly as I could.

"Very well," He announced, and two guards escorted me up onto the platform.

"Tell me," The General said. "Why you are here today."

I tried to talk, but I could barely croak;

"_Water."_

He sighed and waved his hand at a legionnaire, who pulled a canteen from his pouch and poured water down my throat. It felt invigorating, and I felt the desire to talk. I cleared my throat.

"I'm a farmer from Cyrodiil. I was captured by bandits."

The General gave me a queer look.

"Really?" He questioned. "And how would it be that you ended up here?"

"I was hunting outside of Kvatch." I said. "And I was knocked out. I woke up in a dusty old mine, and the bandits told me a ransom had been paid. So they dropped me off in some forest, and then I got knocked out _again_ and put on a cart."

The general rubbed his chin, as if a beard were there, then turned to the crowd. His tone of voice was like an arena announcer.

"Well, good people, it is up to you. Do you believe this man's story? Aye or Nay?"

I looked uneasily at the crowd. I heard whispers of yes and no, but no real decision.

"Well?" The General shouted. "Are you people just going to stand there? Say something!"

Then came the response. There were shouts of "Nay!", but it was easy to figure out that most said Aye.

"Okay then," the General announced. "It seems we have a decision." He leaned down to me. "What's your name, boy?" He asked.

"Torgen," I responded, biting my lip. "Of Kvatch."

"Well, Torgen! I hereby denounce all potential crimes you may have committed against the Empire, and brand you innocent!"

It seemed that only half the crowd cheered this time. He sent me back and Lokir took his place of the platform.

I'll spare you the details. Lokir told his story, and it seemed the General was most intrigued.

"So you confirm that you had no part in this rebellion and absolutely denounce and condemn the Stormcloaks?" He boomed.

"Yes!" Lokir answered proudly. "I do."

"Very well. On behalf of the Empire, I repeal your horse theft in the sake of justice and loyalty to your Empire. Return!"

Lokir slowly walked back to me, right in the back of the crowd. He had gotten away with stealing a horse just because he publicly denounced the Stormcloaks? The General was a forgiving man.

Then the execution started. Once again, I will spare you the details. They were executed one by one, heads chopped off mercilessly. I averted my eyes most of the time, it felt like they were bleeding. The thought of having an axe raised above my head and not even given enough time to say a last prayer. No last rites were given. To the Empire, they deserved none. My binds were cut subsequently, and I was told that after the execution, I would be given five hundred septims and a ride back down to Cyrodiil. The time came when Ralof went to the block. He faced it valiantly, and not a tear was shed from him as his head was cut off. Such brutal methods...

And then, finally, it was two hours later, and time for Ulfric. They propped him up on the block, and the crowd cheered louder than ever. The axe was raised above his head. Then came the roar. It was deafening, and right after, before the headsman could let his axe fall, a large black figure flew from behind the mountains. It landed on the tower, and from the moment of it's descent I knew what it was. A creature created purely out of legend. A creature meant to scare little children, to explain history... A creature meant to kill. This was no ordinary creature. No. It was a dragon.

**Well! I daresay I liked this chapter. And you might not like the fact that Torgen wasn't the one to die when the axe came, and that Ralof died, but honestly, I had no use for him, so off with his head! I hope you thoroughly enjoyed the chapter and don't mind waiting a while for the next! Good fortune, and Talos bless you.**

**-Simon Stormcloak**


	3. Ridnen

**Yay, new chapter! Aren't you excited? I hope so! Anyway, stop crying about Ralof or I'll kill Lokir too! I swear I will! Anyway, erm... CHAPTER 3, I CHOOSE YOU!**

It was gigantic. So big, with silvery-black scales and glowing red eyes. I couldn't stop gawking over how big it was, just sitting there.

Then it let out a mighty roar, and the tower it was on came down. My binds were cut along with Lokir, so we ran through the city. In a few moments, there was fire everywhere, burning down buildings, killing so many...

It made me feel horrible, but I had adrenaline right then, so I kept running until the gates, stepping over piles of ash, burning my already bruised feet. People ran all around me, trying to flee, but the Dragon flew all around the village, swooping down and snapping townsfolk up with it's jaws.

The guards were in complete disarray. They were all running, shooting, but not seeming to do anything useful. Once we got to the gates, there were guards trying to defend what was left. Lokir wasn't talking, just standing there and staring. I pulled on his wrist and started running, but the Dragon flew right overhead and landed on the ground in front of me.

For the second time, I looked into it's eyes. Dark, evil, sinister eyes. But something about them were familiar, like I'd seen it before... Then it shouted.

"_DAH!"_

Dah. Just, that and I went flying backwards along with Lokir. The shout had broken him out of his trance, and I helped him up. The Dragon flew above the village, and I didn't understand.

How? How could one word knock everything down? It made no sense, but it wasn't the time for thinking. I got up off my feet and made for the gate. The guards were dead, no sign of Tullius or even that Hadvar...

The gate doors were broken down. It was a clear exit.

"This way!" I shouted to Lokir. He stared back at me, frightened, but followed nonetheless. We ran past the gates and into the wild. We kept running, and running, and...

We were a long way past Helgen when we were stopped. It was swift, a sharp strike to the back of my head and everything went black...

**Okay guys, I hope you enjoyed, oh who am I kidding? Don't worry, the chapter goes on. Just keep reading. Funny joke, eh?**

Once again, it was dark when I woke up. I felt just as exhausted as the start of the carriage ride. Likewise, I could barely keep my eyes open. My head throbbed painfully, and I could see a faint light out of the sack that was over my head. It seemed whoever captured me had set up a fire. My hands were in binds once again.

"Where... am... I..." I managed to croak before my voice gave out.

A voice sounded. "You're awake."

The bag came off my head. In front of me was a hooded man. His face was all covered by the masked hood, aside from his eyes. He wore very... intriguing armor. It had a padded black hood with spaulders of the same colour, with gold trimming. On his body was a vast assortment of things. He had a sash with a sapphire badge, next to another badge in the shape of a dragon. He also had, on that very same sash, vials for potions and a brush, apparently for spreading poison on his blade. On his belt was a small prison knife, or shiv, with a proper steel dagger and a few lockpicks. There was a very small quiver hanging from his side, and on the other was his coinpurse. His gauntlets looked like his hood, black with gold trim. Then, beside his coinpurse, was a satchel, Gods knew what it contained. And right above that satchel was an inkwell, with a slot beside it, quill in place. In his left hand was a ball of fire, obviously a flame spell, and in the right...

A sword. Not the longest sword in the world, but fairly long. It glowed a bright yellow, like a healing spell, and in the stead of a crossguard, there was a hollow circle, containing a ball of light which actually _did _look like a restoration spell. The most intriguing stranger I had ever seen. He didn't look friendly, judging by what he was holding in his hands.

He dropped to one knee and stared into my eyes.

"Who are you?" He asked.

I tried clearing my throat as an answer.

"Ugh, fine." He said, picking up a small pitcher and filling it with water from a pot. He pulled the shiv from his belt and cut my binds. I put my hands in front of me. They were bruised, scarred and dirty. I picked up the pitcher and took a swig. And then another. And another. Soon, the pitcher was empty, and my throat was a bit better.

"Now, I'll ask you again. Who are you?"

I stared into his eyes again.

"Someone who doesn't know what's going on. Why did you knock me out?"

He sighed.

"Sorry, can't trust everybody these days. Damn Thalmor agents could be anywhere.

"And yes," He said, before I could open my mouth. "I know you're not an elf, but they have rather... effective brainwashing techniques. And I should know," He said, dropping his sword and eating a piece of bread. "It's happened to me."

So this man had been interrogated and tortured by the Thalmor.

"Wait," I said, in a state of realization. "Where's Lokir?" I asked.

"You mean that friend you had with you? Gone. Took off as soon as he saw me."

That wasn't good. Now I didn't know where he was.

"So," I asked. "What's your name?"

He stared at me for a moment until he answered.

"Ridnen. Of, well... High Rock."

Ridnen. That wasn't any name I'd ever heard before.

"And... You're a Breton?" I asked.

"Yeah, and you're a Nord, aren't you?"

I nodded slowly.

"But you don't seem like the type to be one of those Imperials. But you aren't a Stormcloak, either?"

"I guess not." I said. I really couldn't pick a side in this feud.

"Now," he said. "Again, who are you?"

"Torgen." I said. "Of, uh, Cyrodiil."

He sighed.

"Of course you're from Cyrodiil. You don't have blond hair, you don't talk with an accent, and you aren't obsessed with honour and Sovngarde and all that. Am I right?"

"I- I guess so." I stammered. I was amazed at how good he was at knowing me.

"You have a last name, Torgen?"

"Well, my family has always been called Camlorn, I guess because that's where we originate. Strange, considering you're a Breton."

"I don't think it strange," Ridnen said. "I mean, there are plenty of Bretons out there who could be in my place. Not even a coincidence. What did you do for a living in Cyrodiil?"

"Hunting and Herding, mostly. I'm okay with a bow, and can skin a rabbit in under five minutes."

"Impressive," Ridnen told me. "I'm adept with alchemy, and even better with bows. I used to be a minstrel some time ago. You?"

"I can sing pretty well, too. I guess I forgot to mention that."

"Okay then," He said. "Sing me a song. Do you know any?"

"Um, only one, I'm afraid. And my voice wouldn't sound very good right now..."

"No matter. Just let it out, let me hear what you have to sing."

"I guess I can do that." I cleared my throat. Hopefully I wouldn't sound horrible.

"Alright, err..." I took in a deep breath. _Here goes nothing._

"_Brave the snow__  
__Through the pillars of the pale__  
__Rest your feet__  
__Come and listen to the tales__  
__Raise your mug__  
__To the legends of the frost__  
__Through our songs__  
__They will never be lost."_

Alright, don't screw up. Time for a chorus.

_Tales that will never be lost__  
__Kept in the legends of the frost_

And then came the different language. I never understood it, but somehow I spoke it with ease.

_Kruziik Ahkrin Haalvut Lok__  
__Oblaan Qostiid Rein Norok__  
__Briinah Bruniik Sahrot Vahdin__  
__Zeymah Mul Kendov Krin_

Done that, gotta keep going.

_Tales that will never be lost__  
__Kept in the legends of the frost_

_Once and always__  
__A part of history__  
__Long remembered__  
__Warriors be_

_Distant thunder__  
__Echoes of the past__  
__Through our voices__  
__Forever to last__  
_Time to finish._  
__So raise your mug to the legends of the frost__  
__Through our songs they will never be lost..."_

Once I was done, Ridnen just stared. Then he started clapping wildly.

"Did I do okay?" I asked.

**Okay, ending time! Credit to Gavin Dunne (Miracleofsound) and Malukah for making that awesome song that Torgen sang. Now, if you were wondering, Ridnen is an Original Character, so don't go looking for him In-Game. Also, the items he carries is the Armor of Intrigue from the 'Armor of Intrigue' mod on the Skyrim Nexus, with the sword Dawnbreaker. I hope you all enjoyed.**_  
_


	4. The Man in the Mask

**It was great to have another chapter so fast after the last one, right? Well, don't get your hopes up. Still, have a wonderful time!**

That night, I explained everything that happened at Helgen to Ridnen. Starting from my capture, to the Dragon, and then to the present. He was impressed at my story, and even more my song, and we ate and drank. He pulled out a bottle of 'Honningbrew Mead' and shared it with me. Like I said before, I never much liked the taste of mead, but this changed everything. It was the regular taste of alcohol, that feeling that you can't describe as anything but bitter, even though you know it's not actually bitter, it's just that the word goes along with it. But anyway, that bitter taste of beer, but smothered with cream and honey. By the gods, it was great! After I had finished a mug, I asked for another.

"I don't think so." He said, holding the bottle away. "I don't want you to have a hangover tomorrow."

After that was done, we warmed our hands around the fire and cooked the most delicious Venison that Ridnen had hunted. We talked about what was going on these days, what had happened, and all that. But whatever smile was hidden behind that masked hood faded once I asked about him. I was telling him about my brother Jorvar's rivalry with one of the farmgoats.

"And then," I said. "He was chasing the goat all over the barn, trying to smash it's head in with a mace, but he hit his head on a lantern, and-" We both laughed so hard.

"The Lantern fell and crashed on the ground! He, he... he pulled out his axe and threw it straight at the animal! And then the goat ran into the barn, and- Ahh." I said, calming down.

"Anyway," I was panting from laughter. "He never caught that goat. Ran off to torment some other poor soul. But, uh, yeah. That's what happened. Say, what about you? I never asked, how in sixteen hells did you end up here?"

That's when he froze.

"It's a... long story." He said. "I don't want to share it right now. Let's just, um, get some sleep, and we'll talk in the morning."

I nodded, and soon I dozed off.

I woke up the next morning feeling much better. My body wasn't in pain, I wasn't extremely tired, and I wasn't hungry or thirsty. Ridnen was already awake, cutting firewood. The fire from last night was burned out.

"Hello..." I said, raising my head.

"Oh, you're up, finally. Do you know how long I had to wait for you?"

"Well, sorry for being late, and tired, and exhausted from almost being burnt to death by a creature that nobody even knew existed." I muttered.

"Ah, never mind." He said, bringing his axe down on a helpless piece of wood. It looked silly, seeing someone in such detailed, exquisite armor cutting wood like that. And he never took off the mask. All I ever saw was his eyes. And so I wondered.

"Are there scars on your face?" I asked suddenly.

"Huh?" He replied, turning his head.

"Do you have... scars? Because, you said you've been tortured by the Thalmor, and you always wear that mask, so I was wondering..."

"Yes." He said solemnly. "I do have scars, but it's not the only reason I wear this mask." He put down his axe and walked over to me, sitting on the ground directly in front of me.

"Listen, I'm going to tell you a story."

A story. _Let's see what this is about._

"It's about my life, and how I'm here, like you asked last night. I've never told this to anyone in my whole life, and I don't want to repeat it, so listen close."

I nodded.

"I was born in Wayrest. You probably know it as the capital of High Rock. I didn't have much of a family. Just me and my two brothers. My father had abandoned us when my mother gave birth to me. I was the youngest, and the oldest was Robb. Right in the middle was Brandon. Robb was fourteen when I was born, and Bran was seven. Robb took care of me and Bran for a while, until I was ten and he was twenty four, and Bran was seventeen. One day, Brandon fell off a tower and broke almost every bone in his body. Died the next night. It was only Robb and I. And that's where the adventure begins.

"See, Robb was a very... passionate person. He stood up for what he thought was right and didn't bow down to those who seek to silence him. And so, naturally, he was made a target for the Dominion directly after the Great War. I was twelve at the time, two years after Bran died, a few weeks after the War had ended. He was in the marketplace one day, and I was watching from a distance. I saw two Altmer, sporting the carved black Elven armor that signified the Thalmor. They approached him, and started conversation. I had no idea what they were saying, but eventually Robb drew his sword. That might have been a bad idea. And so I watched from that market stall from afar as he was filled with crossbow bolts, stabbed in the heart and his throat slashed. Then they came after me. They burnt down our little wooden shelter outside the city while I slept inside. By the time I had woken up, there were burn marks on my face for lying on the ground of fire. Lucky for me, I was wearing the small leather hat I had found on the street, so it kept most of my head safe. Anyway, I ran away from that shelter and into the wild. I only went back to Wayrest every once in a while. I found an abandoned shack in the woods outside the city. As I grew up, I learned skills. I was soon able to shoot a pine thrush out of a tree, and skin a fox in under ten seconds. I crafted this armor myself as an adult. I also covered up my face by adding a mask, and as an added bonus, the Dominion doesn't know who I am anymore. I came to Skyrim to learn more about the Thalmor, only to find it locked in the middle of a brutal war. I was never one to worship the gods. I don't care, if they were good for me, I'd have been saved long ago. But everyone, man or mer, should have the freedom to worship who they like. I've been living in this camp for a while, until I have enough supplies to get to Windhelm and learn more about the Stormcloaks. And so here I am."

Everything was silent for a moment.

"Well..." I said slowly. "That sure is, um, intriguing."

"Is it now?" He said. "I didn't tell this to the closest of people and I finally divulge my past to some stranger I don't now? Yes, very intriguing. There's just something about you, something that makes me know I can trust you. I have no idea what it is. But anyway," He finished. "We better get a move on."

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Falkreath," He replied. "I have some wares to sell, and I can get food for the trip to Windhelm."

"And you want me to come with you?"

"Why not? Do you want to go on a dangerous trip across Skyrim to find the leader of a separatist rebellion who might just kill us on arrival?"

I smiled. "You bet I do."

And so that marked the start of a long journey, and ultimately, the start of my life in Skyrim.

**Phew! That was a blast to write. Even if it took a while, I hope you enjoy it. A massive thanks to Skyflower51, who always helps me in my time of need.**


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